Part 18 (2/2)

He came by the morning train, and left the same evening. That was the day before yesterday, and I have never slept since. Neither have I thought. There is time enough before me for thought.

He went away the same evening; so at least I was spared the night.

I have burnt his letter unread. What could it tell me that I did not already know? Could it hold any torture which I have not already suffered?

Do I really suffer? Have I not really become insensible to pain? Once the cold moon was a burning sun; her own central fires consumed it. Now she is cold and dead; her light a mere reflection and a falsehood.

His first glance told me all. He cast down his eyes so that he might not hurt me again. ... And I--coward that I was--I accepted without interrupting him the tender words he spoke, and even his caress....

But when our eyes met a second time we both knew that all was at an end between us.

One reads of ”tears of blood.” During the few hours he spent in my house I think we smiled ”smiles of blood.”

When we sat opposite to each other at table, we might have been sitting each side a deathbed. We only attempted to speak when Jeanne was waiting at table.

When we parted, he said:

”I feel like the worst of criminals!”

He has not committed a crime. He loved me once, now he no longer loves me. That is all.

But after what has happened I cannot remain here. Everything will remind me of my hours of joyful waiting; of my hours of failure and abas.e.m.e.nt.

Where can I go to hide my shame?

Richard....

Would that be too humiliating? Why should it be? Did I not give him my promise: ”If I should ever regret my resolution,” I said to him.

I will write to him, but first I must gather up my strength again.

Jeanne goes long walks with me. We do not talk to each other, but it comforts me to find her so faithful.

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